What is my business?

The class in PSI

My major in college was TV and broadcasting, and I did what the teachers taught me to do. I almost didn’t need to think about what I was doing, because I just needed to do a certain assignment about a certain subject before a certain time. Later I began to study filmmaking in SFAI, and suddenly I found that I could do whatever I wanted to do here. There is no such a thing as a textbook here. There are no specific requirements about each project. I was free out of blue. However, what should I do? How should I do it?

Then I realized that I wanted to do a lot. There are many things interesting in the world. Then I just began. I tried to do documentary films, narrative films, MTV and even advertisements. Later I tried to do documentary photography. After trying so many things, I found that I might be interested in documentary film/photography the most.

Nonetheless, I faced the same question again. There are thousands of things in the world that I can document. And there are many ways I can document them. What should I do? How should I do it? Especially today, people can make videos and photos by their cell phone. And it’s not difficult to get a DSLR. What makes a filmmaker/photographer different? How can I build my own style?

Then it seems that I found my answer in front of Weegee’s show “Murder is my Business” in the trip to New York.

ICP, Weegee’s apartment

Weegee works for the press in New York City for many years. He takes a lot of photos in the crime scene. Sometimes he’s even earlier than the police to go there. There are many photojournalists in this business. So what makes Weegee different?

Firstly, Weegee is so into his project. Let’s take a look at his apartment; it’s really simple but unique. Shoes, camera and lights are on the floor; it shows that he’s ready to go to shoot at any time. Newspapers are on the wall; it shows that he selects the information all the time. Radio is near the bed; it shows that he pays attention to the updated news anytime. The old and simple bed shows that he might not care about his living condition. Also Weegee moves to an apartment across the police headquarter. So he can move right after or even before the police move.

Weegee self portrait in his bedroom

In fact, this room reminds me a lot about the days I was documenting the Occupy Movement. But I was not crazy enough. I have two bags always on the floor, one for camera, and the other for lens. I always have two fully charged batteries and two empty memory cards ready to go. The most warm cloths, hats, shoes and gloves are put together just in case I need to spend the whole night in Occupy. Two cell phones are charged. Chocolate and water are always in my bag. So are cash and a little knife. The most thing I do everyday is to check Twitter or Facebook to see what’s updated. Then I will always pick everything then go to get a cab to go to Occupy. But I always don’t have the guts to really live together or near the protesters. I am not taking what I am documenting as my business yet. Apparently, after Weegee lives in the place across the police department, murder becomes his business.

Other than passion, I think continuity is also significant. If Weegee just documents murder once or twice, he will never become who he is right now. As for me, once he decides to move close to the police, taking photos of murder has become a very important part of his life. It’s a life style. He might lose a lot. He can’t sleep well; he might remember the terrible images in the rest of his life. Also he might be in danger. But no matter what happens, I think it’s vital to build up a style and keep doing it. If you take one photo like this, it’s just a very good photo. But if you take a lot of photos like this, it’s a very incredible style.

Lastly, Weegee is much more than a photojournalist. There is a wall in ICP shows Weegee’s self-portraits. He dresses himself as detectives, photographers, or even victims. He has become a part of his project.

Weegee self portrait

What is my business? I will find it and keep doing it. That will be my style.

by Li CHEN

El Museo del Barrio

After a few days of visiting New York art fairs and contemporary art meccas a trip to El Museo del Barrio came as a refreshing reprieve. On display at the time, and of particular note where beautifully allegorical handkerchief drawings by prisoners as well as colorful figurative toy sculptures of animals by Gregorio Marzán. Both would not have been considered “contemporary” art by the standards of the art world we were mostly visiting. Their functional value exerted just as much a importance as their aesthetic value, and their origin was born much more out of either a cultural form of expression or a folk-art type of necessity of materials.

Yet as refreshing as the artwork was I couldn't help but feel like the museum context of the Barrio wasn't doing the artwork or the artists due justice. Removing the artwork from it's cultural context and making it available for larger cultural consumption might work for many forms of contemporary art which aren't rooted in deeper cultural traditions. But for artwork which is dependent on its use and circulation the museum context strips it of its vitality and imposes a specific and somewhat alien mode of experience.

What happens to cultural-rooted forms of art when they are removed from their original context, stripped of their symbolic use value, and observed only aesthetically? What purpose does the museum serve? Is is decentralizing the contemporary art playing field? Does that playing field mesh with the ambitions of its artists, art, and supported communities? How does cultural consumption legitimize groups, communities, neighborhoods? What is at risk?

Finding a Home in Bowery

Martin Strickland

The move to the Bowery was a necessary accomplishment for The New Museum in 2005. Founded in 1977 by Marcia Tucker, the New Museum represented a significant institutional shift in curatorial consideration of global contemporary art. Even today, it is the only museum in New York City exclusively devoted to presenting contemporary art from around the world. Still, by the late 90’s this emphatic devotion was not enough for the museum maintain the kind of reputation that guaranteed it would stand out from the crowd. The most pressing issue was nothing new in the world of Manhattan real estate: location. The New Museum’s lack of a permanent home (it had been in a couple of different downtown locations over the years) had been a constant thorn in the side on the institution for long enough.

By securing a permanent site in downtown Manhattan – surrounded by SoHo, The Bowery and Little Italy, the museum ushered into the neighborhood a public shift of attention and opinion. Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa, partners in the architectural firm SANAA, were chosen as the architects and they broke ground in 2005.

The New Museum was able to accomplish a creation of an entirely new space (it is the first ever museum to be built from the ground up in downtown Manhattan), which would immediately serve three distinctly established neighborhoods, as well as the rest of the city and the international tourism population.

Karen Wong, the Executive Director of External Affairs, understood the importance of rebranding the museum entirely. She began my forming a Marketing Committee (board members, Wong, Museum Director Lisa Phillips), which led to the commissioning of a branding firm, Droga 5, to do a full intuitional re-branding overhaul. Wong commented:

“[The firm] advised that the new brand be based on the four words – new art, new ideas – that comprised the Museum’s founding core principle 30 years ago, and remain its greatest adventure and challenge”

So, upon opening, did this new marketing drive and complete rebranding did the museum sink or swim? A silly water reference aside, The New Museum has performed remarkably well. It appears to have situated itself within a social and economic context that cannot only appreciate the architecture and the added cultural capitol it brings to Downtown, but also a community that supports it. Sure, it might be a stack of big white boxes, but the people don’t seem to mind and the cubes certainly do not mock or degenerate the neighborhood in harmful manner. The structure does not loom over its surrounding street; in fact, on a sunny day, the grey-ish, uneven forms addmuch needed lightness to the large mass of asphalt that is Bowery Street, as well as the dark brick buildings that surround it.

The marketing plan and the new design worked from as aesthetic point of view. But, how does the new New Museum respond to its work as a space for connection its art to its audience? I only have seen pictures of the last triennial, Younger than Jesus, so I can’t speak from personal experience. But we were lucky enough to catch the current triennial, The Ungovernables. I think I was the most excited about this museum because it was the one I had wanted to visit for years. After a brief talk with the Director of Public Programming, we all explored the exhibition space. From the expansive lobby/bookstore/café/ramp to the bathrooms and theaters on the first floor, to the huge, windowless space on the third and fourth floors, you never forget that you are in a series of stacked cubes. Even with minimal natural light (a wall of window on the fifth floor, an open staircase with a window between the thirst and fourth floors) the work on display is able to anchor itself in the space.

The floors are all concrete; the walls flat white, the ceiling is industrial white metal and each gallery/floor is lit with harsh halogen light bulbs. The objects on display for the Triennial could be viewed from a variety of angles and they seemed to comfortably occupy the space. Adrian Villar Rojas’ piece, Someone Loved Me (2012), was perhaps the most threatening piece, but it did not overwhelm the space and one could still walk all the way around the massive object without being interrupted by the two other large-scale instillations in the room.

The high ceilings and industrial feeling of the space lends itself particularly well to additional works with opposite characteristics. The vibrant colors of the art settled into the minimal interior of the galleries. The museum is not trying to compete with the works; the floor plan and interior design provide an audience with easily navigable spaces, which unselfishly elevate the art they are displaying.

One work I particularly enjoyed was Slavs and Tatars’ Prayway (2012) on the third floor. The rich colors of the fabric and the immediate sense of warmth (from the carpet and the strips of light underneath) felt by encountering the piece became a striking contradiction to the space it was placed in. The exhibition space allowed the work to reinforce its purpose as a direct collision of tradition, modernism and the profane. We were welcome to sit on it, to recline and converse on it, to fully interact with it. The mixture of the familiar home furnishing juxtaposed to the bare museum interior, while seated, allowed one to fully connect the art with space it is placed in; the art and the gallery space become better understood through one another.

The New Museum did what it had to do to survive. The collection of art works the museum strives to exhibit could not have been matched entirely by another larger institution. The mission and original goal for the museum would have been lost. The persons in charge democratically ensured a second coming of sorts for the museum; the entire team was informed and involved in the process, through Wong and other committee members. In the end (which is really only the immediate future right now in 2012, to be fair) the dedication seems to have paid off. It will be interesting to witness how the New Museum continues to grow and operate now that the intuition has a permanent home for the first time in its more than 30 years on the New York Art scene. The museum appears to be resting confidently in its decision to rebrand, reinvest, and relocate to provide a space to exhibit exceptional contemporary art from all around the world.

Pushing the Boundaries of Printmaking at MoMA

Installation view of Print/Out

I found a printmaking wonderland on the top floor of MoMA. Print/Out is a showcase the new direction that printmaking has taken in the past two decade, bringing together artists of all skill levels in printmaking. Many of the artists featured in Print/Out are not formally trained printmakers; their work is highly experimental, which sheds a new light on the medium. Print/Out challenges the preconceived notions of printmaking as a medium and acts as a challenge to the traditional fine art print.

Print/Out is a highly designed exhibition; several galleries are plastered in black and white dotted wallpaper, creating conflict between art and design. These galleries were rough for me; I found it hard to focus on the prints with the super busy wallpaper screaming at my eyes form the background. Much of the exhibition was hung salon style with some works hung so close to the floor that they might as well have been resting on it, while others so high out of view they appeared to nearly be touching the ceiling.

Installation view of Print/Out

Installation view of Print/Out

Print/Out features a variety of printmaking media, such as etchings, screenprints, and even, seemingly, found ephemera. The work in the exhibition emphasizes the central qualities of printmaking, the ease of reproducibility and distribution. Museum in Progress, a Vienna-based organization, commissions artists’ interventions in newspapers and magazines, a wall of which appears in Print/Out. Museum in Progress seeks to push beyond the walls of institutions by placing work in newspapers, magazines, websites, and billboards. Featured in the exhibition are some of the works found in newspapers and magazines, but what happens when ephemera becomes artwork or artwork becomes ephemera? Magazines and newspapers are printed with the general knowledge that they will become throwaways. But what happens when the artists intervenes? What does it mean when a page from a newspaper is placed on a museum wall as an artwork? Through their artists’ interventions, Museum in Progress is questioning the use and value of ephemera.

Rirkrit Tiravanija. Demonstration n°1. 2003

SUPERFLEX. Copy Light/Factory. 2008

By utilizing printmaking’s innate function of reproducibility, artist group SUPERFLEX created the participatory-based project Copy Light/Factory. This project invites visitors (at designated times) to enter the “workshop” and participate in the construction of iconic lighting fixtures assembled from wooden frames and digitally printed images of lamps. Challenging the copyright and trademark systems, SUPERFLUX creates what they call, “copies of copies that become new originals.” By utilizing existing print practices, SUPERFLUX pushes the boundaries of the medium.

Images via MoMA: Thomas Schütte. Low Tide Wandering (Wattwanderung). 2001

My most favorite part of Print/Out though, without a doubt, was the Thomas Schütte gallery. Schütte’s contribution to the show was a portfolio entitled Low Tide Wandering, which acts as his diary from 2001. The portfolio is made up of 139 small etchings printed in a variety of colors and hung (with bullfrog clips, I might add) just above eye level from a crisscrossing wire system. I remember walking though the gallery and commenting on the naïve, almost student-like technique of the etchings, only to find out afterward that Schütte had no prior experience with etching until he began Low Tide Wandering. As a diary of 2001, many of Schütte’s etchings are in response to September 11 and the attacks on the World Trade Center. Schütte says that he chose the medium of etching in an effort to “switch to the opposite direction” in a time dominated by digital technology.

I feel that Schütte’s work challenges the notion of the fine art print in two ways. First, in the way that the work is hung, with the way that the work is presented, it no longer exudes the sense of “precious object.” As the prints are hung just above eye level they present the risk of being knocked into by passing heads. I even felt that I had to duck on several occasions and I’m relatively short. Secondly, there is the nature of the prints, themselves. For so long printmakers have taken pride in the mastery of the fine art print, however, with Low Tide Wandering, Schütte was a novice, which is evident in the etchings. I am in no way suggesting that this is a bad thing, in fact, it is because of the quality that this creates in the etchings that I enjoy them so much. Furthermore, given that this portfolio acts as a kind of response to 9/11, I feel that the naïveté works well; 9/11 brought with it a childlike air of fear and confusion.

Images via MoMA: Thomas Schütte. Low Tide Wandering (Wattwanderung). 2001

On a final note, I must mention the exhibition catalogue. I’m a sucker for exhibition catalogues, in general, but I was super impressed with that of Print/Out. Not only does the catalogue represent the work in the show well, it represents the entire design of the show perfectly. Right down to the dot pattern of the wallpaper that I mentioned earlier that carries over into the catalogue, appearing and disappearing throughout the pages just as it did throughout the galleries. The Print/Out catalogue is an excellent representation of the exhibition and definitely worthy of a browse.

Suzanne Minatra

rethinking my artistic identity-bingjie li

the experiences brought by New York is totally different from the LA trip. I feel the metropolises like a container with different people and identities from all over the world. i would concentrate on the rethinking of identity. as an international student I am very interested in the forming of identity and how it chan

ged with the surroundings. honestly speaking I was a little bit confused with my own identity before, as I got a diverse background while people easily categorize you simply with one of your characteristics or features. but the talk at ICI, the visits to Asia Society and MOCA, acting as inspiring elements, offer me an opportunity to rethink the issue of identity, and my own formation of identity. let's say the exhibition of Sarah Sze, some piece of hers totally tells her oriental identity but some of her works is hard to tell the artist's background and history, the universe one about day and night. personally it is almost impossible to find a clue telling her Chinese side.

identity shown what you have got through in the past. i would like to discourse my artistic identity here. As a design student, the most thrilling and attractive part definitely is the Guggenheim. the beautiful elegant spiral started ranging art since 1956. decades did not change the meaning of the design. I felt extremely excited there and my friend was a little bit confused about my status. this interesting reaction made me think about identity in a deeper extent. people tend to think the world in the perspective based on their own background and their experiences. for example we are faced the same task, i would be intended to think a long run meanwhile she would easily hind herself focussed on the presenting moment. i never consider this in a way relat

ed to identity, but I just took it for granted that because we got different personalities. then what about explaining this phenomenon from the aspect of identity? before I came to SFAI, I got a four-year study in field of design. Design aims at solving problems and offering people a more comfortable and cozy experience of living. it means a designer, or who is supposed to be a designer, must have a keen eye on what is the same drawback in different individual

experiences. take the ramen spoon i saw in the MoMA gift shop as an illustration, its designer had great and detailed observation of people's eating ramen. S/he concentrated on the behavior itself, it doesn't matter who is the one eating ramen, or when is the time that ramen been eaten. the ramen spoon combing a fork and a spoon in a clever way solve the problem of having them at the same time. gaining trainings for several years to form the logic behind the ramen spoon, I easily pay attention to the issues in daily life which are also everlasting, such as human natures and emotions.

Meanwhile, my friend had a background in mass media before she came here for the graduate program in SFAI. Mass media requires people to be sensitive of the presenting issues right this moment, probably it is the reason that she usually gets inspiration from news or the ongoing issues for her art work.

this phenomenon is pretty interesting, and my discourse sounds making sense in some way. for me the greatest thought from the new york trip is about identity. every thing happens for reasons. every piece tells the artist's hidden part of identity.

LACMA in a crunch

You know you’re in for an experience when your curator casually mentions the museum she works in is commonly referred to as a campus. LACMA (Los Angles County Museum of Art) turned out to be just that. One drives in the back of the campus and parks underground. Once you’ve emerged two stories up you are greeted with three huge buildings, a ticket office, a multitude of outdoor sculpture and even an outdoor bar and restaurant. It is difficult to know where to begging. Luckily for us, that was decided by others.

One you have had a moment to take in the massive structure surrounding you and the expansive grounds of the museum, you just have to pick a place and start. If you are like the group we were with, this can be daunting experience. We had been visiting museums all day and had just driven from the Hammer museum in five o’clock traffic to meet with a curator by the permanent Richard Serra instillation. She spoke to us briefly, describing LACMA as a ‘encyclopedic’ museum, and correctly pointed out that the largest challenge they face is one that is not uncommon to many museums half its size: dealing with visitor short term memory fatigue. With over 40 curators working together to bridge the gaps between the various departments, the overarching goal of the museum s to have a watchful eye for globalizations and the ramifications the art presented within the museum represents to the rest of the world.

After circling the Serra piece, we moved as a group into the next room to view Chris Burden’s kinetic sculpture Metropolis II. While it was immensely fascinating to view the structure and to hear about the process of the construction and the decision of the museum to commission the work straight from the curator, it was ultimately like stumbling upon a giant oyster and discovering that there was no pearl. Or, rather that the pearl only appeared on the weekends as we were told that the gargantuan structure requires a person to operate it and can therefore only be turned on for the general viewing public on Saturdays and Sundays. I have since watched Youtube videos, which honestly only adds to my disappointment in not seeing it in action.

Since we were pressed for time most of the group quickly looked at the map and headed out in all different directions. I chose to wander through “California Design 1030-1964: Living in a Modern Way”. This was one of the two remaining exhibitions left from LACMA’s original five part contributions to Pacific Standard Time. I thoroughly enjoyed this exhibition. For me, it was a really enjoyable way to wind down a day of intense art viewing. I spend probably half an hour getting lost in the pristine Julius Schulman photographs and the case studies for the home plans allowed me to be incredibly dorky and imagine myself building and designing a house in LA in 1950. It was really fun and a really easy way to loose myself in the art. Another unexpected treat was the full scale Eames living room, which I actually found surprisingly bland --- I really though ay would have used more colors. There were many exhibits I visited during the trip where I wrote down to but the exhibition catalogue later, but I think this might be the only one I actually get around to purchasing. At least that is what I keep telling myself.

LACMA is one place where I would have really wanted more time to walk through. I was such a massive compound and I know that I missed out on seeing the other permanent exhibitions. It is certainly at the top of my list of things to do on my next trip to LA. That being said, I am extremely happy we fit into our day of marathon driving and gallery viewing. I could not think of a better structure to end on.

Martin Strickland

The Epicenter

Is Culver City really the “epicenter” of the Los Angeles art scene as popular consensus would lead us to believe? Visiting in mid February might not be at the height of the art season, but being big time shouldn't require a season, it means you're always on. I always thought that being in the epicenter of anything would be some sort of galvanizing experience, like sitting next to Jay-Z and Beyonce when Kanye stole the mike from Taylor swift and begun his famous diatribe. The epicenter should be exhilarating.

Then something has got to be wrong. How can the epicenter of the “Contemporary” art scene be contemporary if its not in step with more than a little semblance of a contemporary narrative? Don't get me wrong, there are a few galleries that are definitely taking the challenge seriously like Honor Frasier, LAXART, and Cherry & Martin. But gauging from the larger Culver city gallery scene, art production is still stuck in a very well done version of what we've already seen over and over again. What's left is an intellectualized, clean, and possibly well-sellable surface made by some-thing rather than some-one.

As far as human qualities go, Empathy seems to possibly be the most indispensable, not just because its a hot research topic in the sciences recently, but because it seems to be one of the most crucial pathways for being a fully functioning human. What's miraculous about the empathetic capacity is its ability to deeply feel something, to internalize the external, and to live it with almost as much, if not the same, intensity as the person on the other end. What's even more miraculous is that the other person doesn't even have to be there in front of you. They could just write you a story about some fictitious character and have you read it, and through simple little marks on a page you could be balling your eyes out.

The 20^th century saw some ethically dubious capitalization of empathy as advertising figured out the equation and was shortly thereafter manipulating our hearts and fears in order to sell us something. And to most people that just feels dirty and wrong. Art capitalized on this sacred equation as well, and became what we call Kitsch; the formulaic production of art. What's scary is that empathy is so strong that even while watching a movie we know is formulaic and Kitsch we can still be brought to tears because we cant override our own system. That's how strong empathy is.

Which is of course why we are now so distrustful of not only our own emotions, but also any art which outrightly expresses emotion or personal narrative. This leads us back to Culver City where much of everything you see negotiates out dangerous emotion opting instead for a safer version of art that looks and operates like how one thinks art should be. What I was left craving for after visiting Culver City was not only the element of risk, the negotiation of kitsch, something about what it is to live in 2012, but also something personal. I wanted something a little grittier, something a little less sellable, but ten times more interesting. Granted, this is the commercial art scene and everyone has to pay rent, but the world is already filled with beautiful and clean objects with no trace of a human hand, why would I want another?

-Pete Hickok